


Tahul

by shipcat



Series: The End of The World As We Knew It [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Flirting, He's horrible romantic trash and I love him, M/M, Mild Medical Horror, Obito daydreams about alternate universes, Post-Apocalypse, Where he and Sasori could be happier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 06:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16634585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/pseuds/shipcat
Summary: After having half his body torn away, Obito is rescued by the enigmatic criminal, Sasori, and is remade into a half-human, half-cyborg, being."A medical cart squeals as its wheeled over, repurposed with drills, cables, circuits. Blinking blue buttons twinkle amongst towers of wires hanging from the ceiling, swaying like kelp.Sasori’s workshop is a sea, and Obito is drowning."





	Tahul

**Author's Note:**

> Made for the [Sasori Mini-Bang 2018](https://sasori-mini-bang.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Prompt: Metamorphosis. The transformation from one thing into another. Changing feelings and altered bodies.

Bright lights above. Quiet, barely there footsteps—the scorpion approaches. **  
**

A medical cart squeals as its wheeled over, repurposed with drills, cables, circuits. Blinking blue buttons twinkle amongst towers of wires hanging from the ceiling, swaying like kelp.

Sasori’s workshop is a sea, and Obito is drowning.

Red blurs across the overhead light. Obito blearily blinks as his eyes adjust, and finds Sasori leaning over him, brown eyes cold. A laser scalpel on the pocket of his cold shoulder undershirt. It is normal sight in of itself, strange in the way that his heart shudders—once in fright, now something entirely different.

“Ready?” Sasori asks. It’s not a question—it never is. His hands are on Obito before he can say,  _“always.”_

Panels click open and shut as Sasori swiftly checks vitals and the biocybernetic connections, mapping the metal grooves of the Uchiha’s half-cyborg body. Flipping up Obito’s eye patch, he takes out a device and scans for infections with a flash of green. He moves on with his inspection, muttering to himself about replacing the damaged optic nerve, an ocular transplant.

“I dislike incomplete things,” Sasori informs Obito, before using a screwdriver to carefully unpeel the rubber seal from the empty space where his right leg should be. Would be. He sighs when a wary Obito squirms on the workshop table.

It’s a happy sigh.

And. Okay. Maybe Sasori was still a  _teeny_ , itty bit terrifying. Impatient, impatient as ever.  No romance at all. No one could change that much.

In a different world, maybe, one where Sasori went by a name other than scorpion, they could have gone on dates together. Obito would be late, then Sasori would huff and threaten to kill him, before tilting his head to the side so Obito could kiss his cheek. They could go to the same old broken down movie theatre, that played the same old black and white movie, which Sasori quotes perfectly each time,

_What is your greatest ambition in life?_

_“To become immortal, and then, die.”_

Around them, the movie theatre crumbles into ruin, rain dripping from green cracks in the ceiling, and pooling into sodden seats. The water has eaten through the cushions to pool onto the floor, glowing and luminescent. The couple has chosen the driest place in the house.

Obito throws an arm over Sasori’s shoulder, pulls him close enough to smell the ration soap in his rubied hair. Sasori frowns at him, and returns to the movie. The silverscreen shines over his eyes in a way that makes him seem alive.

Neither Sasori or Obito have metal parts, and neither want them.

Everything is beautiful.

Or, or—Obito thinks. Why stop there? In another lifetime, where the cities were whole, the water untainted, and the people unafraid of night–they could’ve stargazed together. Counted the galaxies. Obito could point out their star signs and Sasori would scoff, “Aquarius,” as if it’s an insult. (It definitely is.)

“That’s exactly what a Scorpio would say!” Obito retorts, and the two would fight over ruling planets and moons, whether Sasori has hair the color of Antares or a heart as cold as Pluto. Obito claims the first, Sasori the second.

“You’re wrong, though. You’re Mars,” Obito claims, making a grab for Sasori’s hands. “In reach—”

Sasori slaps him away. Obito grabs him again. This time, his grip is firm.

“—lots of deserts, just a little smaller than average. Still a planet, though. And I see it every night,” he adds with a wink. Grin blazing as usual. “At least…when the sky is clear.”

It had been hundreds of years since anyone had seen the moon. Was it even there anymore?

…was it ever? Did it matter?

No. It didn’t.

Just three p.m., post-apocalyptic musings. No big deal. What is more pressing is Sasori’s bedside manner, or lack thereof.

“Oh god,” Obito exhales. Sasori nonchalantly wriggles his hands into the exposed leg port.  
  
“Red, could you be a bit more gentle? Please?” he adds, fluttering his eyes coquettishly. A little begging went a long way with Sasori.  
  
“No. I’m doing you a favor.”  
  
“Suuuuuure.” A favor, huh. Sounds about right. Is that why you have a boner? “Little sadistic prick,” Obito jokes, chuckling at the pun. Then he yelps as Sasori yanked several wires loose, taking a robotic leg from the cart aside him, easily lining the thigh’s cables up with the prosthetic auxiliary ports.

“I should strap you down to the table,” Sasori muses, pressing down as Obito tried to edge away.

“I mean, if you want.” Obito coughs. “Be my guest.”

“You would like it too much.”

“…yeah, okay, fine. You got me there.”

He could not count the number of times he had been on this same table, in the same position, with the same cybernetic engineer above him, reassembling him. Expert fingers flexing over burn wounds, picking out bones fragments. Measuring his missing arm for a new one. Leg too. Dreaming of those fingers lifting up… just a little more.  

He enjoys taking Obito apart just as much as Obito likes being put back together; sometimes Sasori appeases him. And by appease, he means tease, brushing his hand against his lower abdomen, and all the burn scars on the right part of his body. Over his chest as well—once a hole, now the proud container of a metal heart. Its ticks resound in the workshop air.

“Beautiful,” Sasori says, connecting Obito’s leg to his main body. It awakens with a jerk of sensation—and the first thing it feels is a scritter, itching on his thigh like a bug—the engineer tucking away the wires back into his compartments, murmuring, “You look so beautiful with my parts.”

Obito is a more of a chimera than person; he laughs away the compliment. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Pfft—”

Sasori affixes him with a glare.

Obito holds his hands up defensively. “Okay, okay. I’m the second-prettiest guy in the room. Satisfied?”

Sasori nods, still a bit pissed. His Antares hair shifts in the blue-lit lab.

Obito’s heart short circuits.

Maybe he should get that checked out. Or maybe not.

“So you like your parts on me, huh?” Obito asks, tapping his new leg against the workbench.

“I do.” Sasori nods again.

“Your leg fits good,” Obito says, voice low. The other pulls a stool up to sit next to him, sighing in satisfaction.

“Of course it does.”

“It would fit even better around me.”

Sasori doesn’t even blink. “Of course it would.”

Obito’s metal leg clanks against the metal table when the man takes his hand in his, and pressing his lips to the knuckles. The metal heart ticks and clicks and tocks inside him, Obito knows without even seeing, that a small scorpion is branded on it.

He is fifty percent human, now.

Fifty-percent human, but when Sasori is before him, he feels over a hundred.

Two hundred.

Too much.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ If you liked it, please leave a kudos or comment below. 
> 
> Or!! Catch me on Tumblr [ThatShipCat.](https://thatshipcat.tumblr.com)


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